


Got Me Walkin A Wire

by mercurybard



Category: Push (2009)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-11-26
Updated: 2010-11-26
Packaged: 2017-10-13 09:29:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/135755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mercurybard/pseuds/mercurybard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A peek inside the skull of one Nick Gant, second-generation Mover (or whatever the kids are calling it these days).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Got Me Walkin A Wire

**Author's Note:**

> Push isn't mine. Title from "Drop Top" by Mercy Mercedes

“Lose a bet with your hairdresser?”

“I like color.”

She’s in the right city then. When Nick first got to Hong Kong, he thought his retinas were going to melt from all the color. Reds and greens and neons, people piled on top of people, signs in languages he still can’t read overlapping everywhere you turn. Of course, it didn’t help that he’d gotten off the plane from Kuala Lumpur with the mother of all hangovers.

Since then, the city and him, they’ve come to an agreement. All her over-the-top color and light helps him hide, and he’s sworn off the tequila. Not quite a year, and this town is starting to feel like it could be a place to settle permanently. A childhood on the run from Division hadn’t given him the best idea of what “home” was, not in the traditional sense. His dad had raised him in crappy motel rooms from Seattle to Port Aransas. Not exactly the Cleavers.

And who the hell thought that was good name for the All-American Family anyway? “Cleaver”—it reminded him a butcher’s knife. And with Division Sniffs not twenty minutes out of his apartment, he was balanced on the blade’s edge of losing it. Every daddy-instilled instinct was telling him to turn the fuck around, go back to the apartment, grab his shit, and go. Instead, he’s following this three-foot-tall Watcher into a particularly pungent fish market.

But she’s buying, and when you owe tens of thousands to the wrong people, you find your stomach growling more often than not, even for noodle stand fare. But no matter the hunger, the spot right between his shoulder blades itches like someone’s watching him. It’s not paranoia if there are people actually out to get him.

Not him—the Sniffers had made it clear that Nick’s too lousy a Mover for them to bother with—but some girl. Probably the one leading him between the tanks of saucer-eyed fish. She’s arrogant enough to be a Person of Interest to Division. He’s stayed alive and free this long by avoiding people like her, but every time he tries to pull back, this girl just reels him back in, hooking him with all his vices. He wonders if she’s ever run cons on Coney Island. Nah, too abrasive when it comes down to the sell. Too… _pushy_.


End file.
